The last thing I remember from base reality was the piped-in voice of a researcher counting down to zero. Confined within an fMRI machine in the basement of a research hospital in Baltimore, with a mask over my eyes and the countdown crackling through my earbuds, I felt as if I were an astronaut about to blast into orbit. But where I was headed was far stranger than space.
I had lent my gray matter to researchers at Johns Hopkins University for the first imaging study of what your brain does on salvinorin A, a potent, naturally occurring psychedelic produced by a plant called salvia divinorum. I was lying inside a machine that would use massive magnets to peer into my brain, and, as I reported on my experience with the study in 2019, I had just inhaled an unspecified dose of the pure crystalline substance from a hose attached to what one of the researchers characterized as an “FDA-approved crack pipe.” Over the course of an hour, I was given two doses—one placebo, one salvinorin—but I hadn’t been told in advance which was which. I hadn’t felt anything from the first dose, which meant that this time, once the researcher reached zero, I would start feeling the drug's powerful effects.
I knew what I was getting into. I had done a trial run the day before, lying on a couch in a laboratory that was furnished to look like a tastefully trippy living room. During that experience, I had felt my physical self disintegrate as a stunning diamond pattern began rolling from both sides of my face toward a boundless horizon. Any sense of self washed away and time became a meaningless abstraction. I was pure existence having an encounter with the infinite.
My psychedelic experience in the fMRI machine was markedly less otherworldly. On the second round, I saw some colorful pinwheels and felt as though my body had merged with the machine. But I didn’t enter another dimension or dissolve into pure being. This may have been because I received a lower dose. Or it may have been because it’s harder to give in to the experience when you’re inside a giant machine making a racket while it soaks your head in a powerful magnetic field.
But I wasn’t here to touch the face of God. The point was to allow the researchers to watch my brain and those of the 11 other volunteers in the study on salvia. The team was led by Manoj Doss, a postdoctoral researcher in neuropharmacology at Johns Hopkins University working under the guidance of the veteran psychedelic scientist Roland Griffiths. A decade earlier, Griffiths had orchestrated the first controlled study of the subjective effects of salvinorin A. To get a better understanding of how the drug produces its incredibly strong psychedelic effects and whether it might have any clinical relevance for treating conditions like depression or drug addiction, they needed to see what was happening at the neural level. So I got high … for science.